


what yields the need for those who lead us

by haloud



Series: open up my eager eyes [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Aftercare, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 01:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18728914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: Michael and Alex have, historically, not been that great at communication. What they are good at is getting each other off. Kyle helps with both those things.





	what yields the need for those who lead us

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from moment's silence by hozier
> 
> i say "the three of them" need to talk, but, of course, it would be rude to talk with your mouth full.... ;)
> 
> this fic is not for redistribution without my express permission.

It might be a bit dangerous for Kyle to be driving, considering how hard his heart pounds with every mile closer he gets to the cabin. By the time he puts his car in park, it’s approaching a real cardiac concern.

He knows what’s waiting for him in there. Alex was perfectly clear over the phone. A reasonably-sized part of Kyle wants to just turn around and high-tail it away, call Alex back on the way home and tell him something came up. Is it too soon for a midlife crisis? The way life’s been going in Roswell lately, maybe it’s a good idea to get an early start on these things. Maybe that’s all this is.

Yeah, sure. And maybe…

Now that he knows literal aliens, Kyle can’t think of something unlikely enough to actually complete the cliché.

No. No chickening out. Liz and Max are enjoying their domestic bliss; Maria and Isobel have both started dating again, even if Kyle has no idea who with. Why not take a chance on this thing?

Kyle clambers out of the car before he can change his mind a fifteenth time, nearly falls flat on his face, then collects himself and jogs to the front door, rapping sharply three times.

“It’s open!” Alex calls.

Kyle takes a deep, fortifying breath. Then he touches the knob, and the door swings open. The inside of the cabin is rapidly darkening like the sky outside, except for the warm glow of lamp-light spilling from the bedroom and out into the hall.

“Leave your shoes and socks by the door and come join us,” Alex calls again. What is it about his tone that already has Kyle acting to obey? Barefoot and vibrating with anticipation, even the grain of the wood floor catches Kyle’s attention as he walks toward the bedroom.

Despite the whole car ride he had to brace himself, what he sees there still knocks the wind out of him.

“I’m glad you could make it, Valenti,” Alex says, and he gestures toward the same chair Michael occupied a few nights ago. “Sit down. We’ll talk a little bit and then we’ll get started. Michael might not make much of a contribution, though, but that’s okay.”

Michael might as well be purring as Alex lightly scratches his scalp, muscles gone liquid leaning up against Alex’s good leg. One of his arms is hooked around Alex’s calf, fingers playing with the boot laces. Jealousy takes Kyle swiftly by surprise. It must feel so good to doze off like that, with Alex’s warm hand stroking your hair, massaging the tension from your neck. Kyle’s always got some ache somewhere from the base of his skull to between his shoulders from long shifts at the hospital—god, he’d _pay_ Alex any asking price if he could get the treatment Michael’s getting just for five minutes. Mesmerized by the gentle, circular motion of Alex’s hand, Kyle misses the question directed his way.

“Have you ever used a safeword before?” Alex repeats. He slides his thumb down to rub the vulnerable hollow of Michael’s jaw, and Michael arches his neck to give Alex all the space he needs, eyes slipping closed in bliss, a soft hum buzzing in his throat.

Kyle clears his throat and darts his eyes away. “Uh. No. I’ve let girls tie me up before, just for fun, but it’s never been anything serious enough for…that.”

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal; it’s there just in case. Most of the time it comes up it’s just because something’s pinching my leg or something doesn’t work with Michael’s hand. It helps keep everyone on the same page. Michael,” Alex tugs one perfect corkscrew curl at Michael’s temple to get his attention. When he responds with a slow blink and a sleepy _mmm?_ Alex continues, “Tell Kyle our safeword, okay?”

Michael chuckles and wraps himself even tighter around Alex’s leg, pressing his cheek to his knee. “It’s ‘Maximo,’” Michael slurs, rubbing his face cat-like against the denim.

“Maxi—ugh, dude, _ugh—”_ Kyle splutters over double sounds of laughter.

“What better for a hard stop than the number one thing guaranteed to make your balls crawl inside you?” Michael says.

“It’s definitely just you being practical and not at all ridiculous,” Alex agrees with a fond roll of his eyes. “Anyway, I want you to consider it your word for tonight, too. If it’s something you want or need, we can come up with one just for you another time; but for tonight, if anything makes you uncomfortable or you have any questions, just say the word and we’ll talk it out, got it? Otherwise I might think you’re just trying to interrupt me, and there are consequences for that.”

“But don’t let that stop you. The ‘consequences’ are the best part,” Michael purrs, then yelps when Alex pinches his ear in retaliation.

“Trouble,” he says, pushing Michael’s head away from him playfully.

Kyle has never seen them this easy with each other. Usually, watching them is like a favorite song shifted a half-step too sharp; it grates on the nerves like foil between teeth. He doesn’t know how he missed this change in them, but—he likes it. For them. He just doesn’t know where he fits in.

“So you guys are, uh, like this, all the time?” Kyle asks, not sure how to word it in a way that doesn’t sound rude or judgmental.

“Not always,” Alex replies. “Things happen as spontaneously and casually as any other couple; sometimes one or both of us isn’t feeling it. But when you know what feels good, you kind of naturally fall into the pattern, so…”

“Sorry, but what do you _get_ out of it? And what am I doing here? Last time was _hot,_ don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know where I’m supposed to fit in this thing you’ve got going.” Kyle rubs his own shoulder and looks down rather than meet Alex’s intense, dark gaze head-on. He flexes his toes against the wood floor. He never knew something as simple as being barefoot when someone else was wearing shoes could make him feel so stripped-down and vulnerable—in retrospect, that’s probably why Alex had him get barefoot the second he walked in the door. Michael, too. And Alex’s work boots are impressive in and of themselves—thick soles, fitted leather and canvas, clearly well-worn and comfortable and—

Oh my god, does Kyle have a foot fetish now? Did Alex Manes give him a _foot fetish?_

There’s not a therapist in the world qualified enough to work in Roswell.

“You’ve clearly got a lot on your mind,” Alex is saying, and Kyle shakes himself. There are probably _consequences_ to not paying attention, too, and Kyle wishes he could ignore the way that thought makes him blush and swell a bit in his pants.

“Yeah, you could say that. I’m…processing,” Kyle agrees, shifting in his seat.

“Why don’t we let Michael get started while we talk? He won’t be too much a distraction; after all, he’s supposed to have learned a little selflessness and patience.”

“Uh…okay.”

“You heard him, Guerin.” Alex nudges Michael’s head off his knee and unbuckles his own belt. Michael shuffles to kneel between his legs, and his mouth falls open in anticipation. “Good,” Alex says, tracing his lips with one finger. Then, without further preamble, he replaces that finger with his half-hard cock and, as Kyle watches, Michael settles in and rests his cheek on the inside of Alex’s thigh.

“Now, what did you want to know first?” Alex asks, cocking his head to the side and smiling. He’s incredibly composed, like he doesn’t have a willing, hot mouth wrapped around his dick.

“…What do you get out of having sex like—this?”

The question seems stupid now that he’s watching them in action. Not that either is really doing anything. Michael is just kneeling there like a statue; he’s not even swallowing, just letting a thin trickle of drool spill over the corner of his mouth. His hands rest still on his thighs. His closed eyelids flutter like he’s dreaming. Kyle can’t remember the last time he felt as peaceful as Michael looks on his knees.

“Historically, the two of us have not been great at communication. What we _have_ been great at is orgasms. Like, really great.” Alex laughs, but there’s a shadow behind it that makes Kyle regret bringing talking into this at all. But maybe that’s what all this emphasis on “talking it out” is for. Alex continues, “We’re trying to do better at cutting the thing we suck at with the thing we’re best at, and so far it’s worked.” He slides one hand back into Michael’s hair in an absentminded caress.

“Doesn’t it stress you out trying to handle your needs and his by yourself? Isn’t that a lot to take on? Never mind adding me into the mix.”

“Well rest assured we won’t be ‘never minding’ you any time soon.”

Michael hums in agreement and Alex shushes him with a yank to his curls before continuing, “I like being in control. Reducing the variables. No matter how much I’m ‘handling,’ it turns me on to see Guerin—or you—working to please me. And while I can’t speak for you, on Michael’s part it’s about the security of knowing he doesn’t have to _perform._ There’s nothing he has to do but obey, and it helps him to get out of his own head. Having that dynamic in place has made it easier for us to talk about non-sexual things too, actually. It was a nice surprise.”

“So…what am I here for? Not that I’m not flattered, but I kind of thought last time was a one-time fantasy fulfillment kind of thing.”

“Is that what you wanted? Because I don’t mind being your gay Yoda if that’s all you want, but we would have done this in a different environment.” A frown creases Alex’s forehead, and he drops his hand from Michael’s hair to wrap his whole arm around Michael’s shoulders, holding him close, a protective gesture.  Michael makes a distressed little noise, and it reverberates in the cage of Kyle’s ribs like a struck gong.

See, this is exactly what he was afraid of. A few wrong words, a too-flippant remark, and he’s thrown them out of a place that’s safe and intimate for them. Ruining this would kill him. He puts his hands up in surrender; he’d do a lot more if he thought it would work. “No! Not at all. Last time was,” Kyle swallows, “Intense. I want more, I do, I just don’t want to get in the way. And, frankly, if every time is going to be like last time, I don’t want to be trotted out like your favorite vibrator whenever you’re feeling frisky. I can do casual, but nothing about this feels casual to me.”

The smile returns to Alex’s eyes. His posture relaxes, and the iron squeezing Kyle’s lungs relaxes with him. Kyle lowers his hands into his lap, rubs his sweaty palms over his knees.

“Okay. Thank you for being so open. I’m sorry I reacted defensively, but like you said, emotions run high when things are like this. We’ll get better at communicating—I promise you that.”

Michael is the last of them to unclench, and Kyle’s guts squirm uncomfortably at how easily that aura of peace and acceptance he had before is disrupted. It’s a quiet reminder of how strong Alex is, how fiercely he loves, that he can bring Michael down so easily. Michael pushes forward, taking the last few inches he’d neglected while just sitting there warming Alex’s cock into his throat. Though he’s no longer on high alert, there’s still a hard edge there that begs to be made soft again.

“Okay,” Alex murmurs, “okay.” He smooths his fingertips over Michael’s wrinkled brow and brushes the lightest kiss to the corner of each eye before sitting back up and meeting Kyle’s gaze. “I have a suggestion, and this time it’s not an order,” he says.

Kyle nods and grips his own knees in anticipation.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

“All right. Here’s my suggestion: just watch the rest of tonight, at least until one or both of us asks if you want to join in. No expectations, nothing you need to do but observe and see if it’s something you still want. The safeword stands. Any discomfort, any questions, anything at all. Don’t worry about killing the mood. How’s that sound?”

“I mean, it sounds hot as fuck. But kind of awkward? Like, what am I supposed to do with my hands?”

Alex winks and says, “I’m pretty sure I’ve still got a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs someone gave me last Valentine’s Day, if that’s all you’re worried about.”

Pink fuzz aside, Kyle thinks about the _snick_ of the lock, thinks about tugging and twisting but never getting any more leverage while Alex watches him with that teasing, taunting smile. Blood rushes to his face so fast his ears ring, and he lets out an undignified squeak.

“I’ll just file that one away for later,” Alex says.

“U-uh,” Kyle clears his throat, “I’m good. I’m good to watch, I mean. Maybe I _will_ take notes.”

“It _was_ one of my better suggestions. And Michael must have listened, didn’t you? You’ve been good, Guerin. So patient. Keeping me warm and getting me hard so I can give you what you need, isn’t that right?”

Alex gently pulls his cock from Michael’s red, swollen mouth just to rest the tip against his pouty lower lip. And that little tease is just _too much_ for Guerin, because of everything, being treated like an object, having to breathe around a cock in his throat, being ignored and talked about, it’s this that breaks him. He chokes on air and almost tumbles forward chasing what’s been taken from him, except Alex catches him by the shoulders and holds him steady.

“God, please, just fuck me, don’t make me wait anymore, I’m sorry, _please—”_ He sounds _wrecked_ , raspy and wet and like every last breath might turn into a sob. Kyle is on fire just _watching_ that kind of desperation, and he already wishes he hadn’t agreed to be an observer. He wishes he could be over there, to settle his hands on Michael’s hips, to rest his forehead in the crook of Michael’s neck, just to be there while they both wait for Alex to give the word. But he can’t—not now—isn’t allowed, so all he can do is white-knuckle the arms of the chair and count the beats of his own breaths.

Luckily Alex doesn’t make either of them wait long. “No, no, no apologies,” he says sternly, touching the underside of Michael’s chin to make him look up. Michael’s tongue darts out to steal a taste of the precum beading on the head of Alex’s cock, and Alex nods encouragingly. “You’ve decided to be good tonight, so I know you were listening. You heard me. Tell me what I said, Guerin, and then you can have your reward.”

Michael actually does sob now, and he takes a second to compose himself before he can choke out, “I’m good. I was patient. You’re going to give me what I need.”

“That’s right,” Alex says, and feeds his cock back down Michael’s throat in one smooth motion.

Kyle is torn in half by things he never thought he’d want. He wants his thighs pink and raw from the scrape of Michael’s stubble against that thin, soft skin. For days after, the simple friction of his underwear would drive him crazy with the memory of slick, molten suction. And he wants—he wants to go down on his knees, unzip Alex’s pants and—

He craves the taste of it most of all. His tongue darts out to taste the skin of his own thumb like there’s even a chance it could compare; he digs his teeth in while he watches Michael gulp and gag and drool and nuzzle into the trimmed hair at the base of Alex’s cock. Alex tips his head back. His hips don’t falter in their rhythm, pumping into Michael’s throat like it’s his god-given right.

Kyle doesn’t notice until he’s closed half the distance, but suddenly everything is closer and louder and hotter and more real, every grunt and every little, wet noise. His chair hovers an inch from the floor, and Kyle gapes at Michael, who stares back at him through glazed, teary eyes. He blinks slowly in what might’ve been an attempt at a wink. This close, Kyle can see each bead of sweat glimmering on the shivering muscles of Michael’s back, the way his hips move in tiny circles, chasing relief that will never come until Alex decides to be merciful. The sight is all too much. Kyle licks his lips, breathless and twitching to do _something_ , to run his hands over Michael’s shoulders, feel the ripple of his throat under his lips. Even just to be on his knees, ready for—whatever Alex wants, anything at all.

Alex thrusts in deep and _grinds_ , his hand tightening reflexively in Michael’s curls. Michael moans like he’s _dying,_ hands clenching on his knees, eyelids fluttering shut as his eyes roll back in his head. Kyle’s chair hits the ground with a thunk. The sound gets Alex’s attention; he double-takes from Michael to Kyle and back again with his eyes wide and his mouth open.

“Fuck, Michael, oh _fuck—”_ Alex pants. Both hands come up to cup Michael’s face with paradoxical tenderness as Alex hunches over, shudders, and comes directly down his throat. Michael gasps wetly and swallows deep before pulling off with a slurp. Still panting, he drops his forehead limply to roll against Alex’s knee, a little whimper escaping his ragged throat.

“Holy fuck,” Kyle whispers. His hand comes up to cup his own neck.

Alex tilts Michael’s head back and forth, fingers stroking his jaw, his cheekbones, his sweaty temples. He studies Michael’s face carefully; Kyle couldn’t begin to guess what answers he’s looking for, but he must find something, because he croons, “You’re so clever, Guerin, Michael, you make me so proud; even when you’re perfectly following orders you find ways to make me happy.”

Michael is clearly floating, still knocked into wordlessness. He croaks and nuzzles into Alex’s touch. A few tears escape the corners of his eyes, and Kyle can’t tell if he’s crying or if his eyes are just running from Alex’s rough treatment.

“There,” Alex soothes. “You know what? You were so good, you gave me an idea. Valenti.”

Kyle jumps. “Y-yeah? I mean, yes?” The _sir_ goes unspoken, but only just. He hasn’t heard Michael give Alex any honorific even in scenes like this except sarcastically, doesn’t know if it’s expected of him…and to be honest, it feels a little silly. But it also feels instinctive, necessary, so Kyle’s left awkward and wrong-footed. Alex smiles dreamily like he knows anyway, and a fresh bubble of security forms in Kyle’s chest.

“I think you’ve done enough as an observer. Why don’t you give him a hand?” Alex says. “Come on, Guerin, up.” He helps Michael to stand on wobbly legs, then pulls him to sit between his own thighs. Michael lolls back against Alex’s chest as Alex unbuttons his jeans and pulls down his boxers to reveal his wet, aching cock. Kyle stands, almost as shaky as Michael looks, and shuffles forward.

“What should I do?” He asks, feeling struck dumb and clumsy standing there still fully clothed. Like an interloper; like a stranger in his own skin. How can he measure up to what he just witnessed?

“What feels right?” Alex reaches out with the arm not cradling Michael against him and rests the back of his hand to Kyle’s cheek. “Don’t overthink it; just feel.”

Kyle drops to his knees.

“Oh,” Alex and Michael say together, half-moan, half-sigh.

“I think,” Alex says, light and careful like he’s afraid Kyle might bolt, “I know what you need. Kyle, you’re going to use your hands and make Michael come. You can do it however feels right, but _only_ your hands, and you’re going to stay on your knees just like that while you do it. Do you understand?”

Kyle nods, then jolts when Alex grabs him firmly by the jaw and forces him to make eye contact.

“Words, Kyle.”

“Yes.” His voice comes out stronger than he’d feared, despite the dryness of his throat. “Okay,” he breathes, resting his hands on the tops of Michael’s thighs. The muscles there tighten briefly before going as pliant as the rest of Michael, still trusting all his weight to Alex. Kyle slides his hands up, taking the time to memorize how it feels to have a man powerless and anticipating him. When he wraps Michael’s cock in a firm grip, Michael jerks like he’s been electrocuted.

“He’s been on edge since I started fucking his mouth; he won’t last long,” Alex says. He runs his fingers through Michael’s chest hair then pinches his nipple, drawing out a muffled _mmf._ Kyle starts a steady back-and-forth, mesmerized by how different the velvety skin feels from his own. With his other hand, he rolls Michael’s balls, runs his thumb along the seam between them, then adjusts to press firmly against his perineum. Michael moans low and long, tilting his head to burrow more into Alex’s shoulder.

A touch brushes Kyle’s lower lip, and his eyes cross to watch Alex’s forefinger trace gently back and forth. “Did you want to use your mouth?” He asks, and Kyle nods, helpless in the face of truth and lust. He did—he does. The feeling, the taste, the scent—he’s so close, and he doesn’t know how he’s gone this long without it.  “I know,” Alex continues. “And I love that, that you’re so eager. But I’m not sure you’re ready…and anyway, anticipation encourages good behavior.”

Kyle stills his hands and shifts on his increasingly aching knees. Michael groans in disappointment but relaxes again with a quiet _hush_ and a kiss from Alex. “How do you know I’m not ready if you don’t let me—If I don’t try?” Kyle says. “I may not be as _experienced_ as Guerin, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put tab A into slot…C, I guess. It’s not exactly open-heart surgery. Which I can also do. For the record.”

Alex laughs and leans back, taking his hand away and taking Michael with him. Kyle can’t help but reach out to try and keep contact, even though he flushes at his own reaction. It’s colder with their bodies even a few centimeters more away. Alex picks up where Kyle left off, pulling Michael’s cock at a slow, teasing pace.

“If you’re calling Michael a slut, you can come right out and say it,” Alex says.

“Makes me all tingly, Doc,” Michael drawls hoarsely, and Alex replies:

“Welcome back,” with another kiss, quick and deep. “Anyway,” he continues, “like we talked about earlier, it’s kind of my job to set the pace, unless something’s really not working. In which case, we take a break and talk it over. If you want a chance to suck cock, you’ll get it…eventually. You’re still top of your class, Valenti, make no mistake.”

“And I used to make fun of your work ethic,” Michael adds with a mocking shake of his head.

“For now…” Alex takes one of Kyle’s hands and places it back over Michael’s cock. Unwilling to risk his blue-balling himself by digging in his heels, Kyle picks up Alex’s rhythm.

There is _something_ to be said for this, Kyle supposes, even if it’s not exactly what he wants. On the upstroke, he presses his thumb into Michael’s slit, making him moan and jump forward.

“That’s the idea.” Alex _finally_ touches Kyle again for real, placing his hand on the back of Kyle’s neck where it sits warm and heavy and comforting. “You’ve got all the power like this, you know. You can go faster, make him come in minutes. Maybe I’d do you at the same time and time you both. I’m sure I could come up with a reward for whoever manages to last the longest.”

Kyle’s dick throbs viciously and he grinds the heel of his other hand against it to relieve a little pressure. God, who knew Alex could _talk_ like this? And who knew it would get Kyle hotter than anything else in the fucking world?

“Or you could go slow and keep him on edge for hours. Just the lightest petting along the insides of his thighs and on his balls until he’s _begging_ for your hand. And then you’ve got the power to choose whether or not to give it to him.”

Michael whimpers and throws his head back, fucking up into Kyle’s hand like he’s already begging Kyle not to do that to him. It’s a heady sight. Slowly, not wanting to come first even if it’s not actually a competition, Kyle starts jerking himself for real.

“ _Or,”_ Alex says, beginning to rub the nape of Kyle’s neck in time with his strokes, “You could give it to him hard and fast and keep going even after he’s shot all over himself. Keep going until he cries. Until he loses control completely and your stuff starts flying around the room because all that chaos in his head just can’t keep up.”

Michael’s cock throbs in Kyle’s hand. He’s close; Kyle can actually _feel_ how close, and it’s amazing.

“So you see, there are a lot of options if you use that smart head of yours, even if some jerk won’t let you gorge yourself on what you’re gagging for.” Alex slides his hand around to hover over Kyle’s throat, just the barest threat of pressure he only _really_ feels when he swallows deliberately. Kyle doesn’t actually want to be choked—the word _Maximo_ sits on the tip of his tongue, just in case—but something about Alex’s easy smile despite the intoxicating hint of danger keeps him silent.

“Now,” Alex says, leaning back and returning his hands to Michael, stroking all over his skin. “Don’t you think he’s waited long enough? Go ahead, Kyle. Do your worst.”

Kyle nods and speeds up his strokes—fast, efficient, and rough the way he can imagine Michael handling himself. Probably wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and the jacket of Alex’s fatigues and _fuck_ Kyle is going to file that one away for later. It doesn’t take long before Michael is arching up, hips twisting, and firing rope after rope of come all over his own belly and Kyle’s hand.

Kyle’s never been a _selfish_ lover, but he still never thought he’d end up at the point where making himself come is almost an afterthought, but here he is. He strips his cock efficiently until he’s grunting and firing off, but he’s more focused on—

A few drops of Michael’s spend still cling to his fingers. Alex has already wiped off his belly with a damp cloth that was on standby, but Kyle doesn’t take it in favor of popping two fingers into his mouth and washing the mess away.

Salty. Bitter. Even this little taste fills his whole mouth and gets drool pooling on his tongue. It should be disgusting, but Kyle chases every drop down regardless, trying to sate this curiosity in his gut that he comes to realize more and more might never be satisfied at all.

Both Alex and Michael are staring at him when he lifts his head, and he grins in triumph at their stunned expressions.

“Damn, Valenti,” Alex says.

Michael chimes in, voice beginning to slur towards sleepiness, “I think that counts as extra credit.”

“You know, I think you’re right.”

“See, _now_ you’re talking. Extra credit—the two words guaranteed to get any med student hot.” Kyle grins, aftershocks still zinging down his spine. Michael may be dozing off, but Kyle feels wired. Like anything is possible.

“You’re going to have to give me a little more time, and I think Michael’s had it,” Alex says, “But I think that’s information we can use, Valenti.” Alex lays Michael down, and Michael reaches for him, curling a hand in the t-shirt Alex never took off. “I’ll be right back,” he says, “Just have to get my leg off before naptime, alright?”

Michael nods, releasing him and curling into a ball. Remembering the way Michael wormed his way into the middle of every embrace after the last time the three of them were together, Kyle takes the initiative and hauls himself up onto the bed and touches his shoulder.

“Guerin,” he says. The two of them lock eyes and, for a heartbeat, it’s guarded and hesitant. Then Michael is rolling over and unfurling, letting Kyle wrap his arms around him and kiss the side of his neck, tasting the salt there like he’s been craving for almost an hour. His strange energy burst fades in the undertow of Michael’s sleep-flushed skin. In less time than it takes for Alex to finish up and turn back around, Michael is fast asleep and Kyle’s eyelids are getting heavy.

Alex’s sharp intake of breath tugs him back from the brink. When Kyle looks up at him, Alex’s face is inscrutable.

“You okay?” Kyle asks, quietly so Michael doesn’t wake up.

“God. Yeah.” A smile flickers on his mouth. “I just really wanna make this work.”

“C’mon.” Kyle runs his hand across the duvet. “I bet it won’t feel like so much work if you get in here.”

“You’re probably right.” Alex slides over to spoon up against Kyle’s back, taking a moment to reach across him and stroke Michael’s arm before slipping his arm around Kyle’s waist and squeezing. “Yeah,” Alex agrees with a settling sigh, “this is good. It’s…it’s really good.”

“Talk more in the morning,” Kyle murmurs, and he closes his eyes.

Still, he’s a doctor, and long hours on-call mean he’s a pro at keeping himself awake. He floats just above unconsciousness until Alex’s breath steadies into sleep and the last little lingering tension bleeds out of him. It’s a little too hot with Alex’s broad form at his back and Michael tucked into his chest, and Kyle kind of wishes he hadn’t been too lazy to shower. Also his mouth still kind of tastes like semen. And he’ll probably wake up again in a couple hours with a hand or foot dead asleep.

And it’s all so _fucking_ worth it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> a few notes:  
> -i try to bring up alex's leg (and michael's hand, though it hasn't really come up yet) when it feels organic, especially because i'm not really satisfied by how the show kind of made it go away once he wasn't using the crutch anymore. that being said, i don't have personal experience with amputation and intimacy, so anyone at all please feel free to reach out with constructive criticism  
> -this 'verse kind of exists in a nebulous space where alex is in the much better place he seems to have reached mentally and emotionally by 1x13, but also michael isnt being a headass so their relationship has actually made progress. also max didnt heal michael's hand bc i didnt like how that was done either lol
> 
> also kyle is there. kyle is there and he's dtf.
> 
> im haloud on discord, @haloudd on twitter, and cosmicsolipsism is my roswell sideblog on tumblr! im not especially active on any social media but im always down to chat :) 
> 
> hope you enjoyed!


End file.
